Blue Divide
by centerfield
Summary: Harry has always hated Draco Malfoy. So it comes as a great surprise when he finds himself falling for his Slytherin rival. Even more shocking is the revelation that Draco feels the same way. Meanwhile, the Ministry of Magic has been infiltrated and centuries of secrecy are under threat as the divide between the wizarding world and the Muggle world starts to blur. Slash, post-DH.
1. Chapter 1 - A Night-Time Visitor

**Author Notes** – This is the beginning of a new fic that I'm writing, and the pairing this time is Draco and Harry (because every Harry Potter slash writer has do at least one, right?). For those who read my other series, I intend to continue _Signs and Wonders_ but am taking a break because I want to take some time to think about where exactly the story is going. Meanwhile, I thought I'd try something a bit different, and this fic is set ten years after the Battle of Hogwarts. I hope that people enjoy the start of this story. It was a challenging opening to write but I'm happy with the way that it turned out. Please review and share, follow and favourite as well, as it all helps with the motivation. It's good karma as well.

 **Additional Note** – The title of this fic, _Blue Divide_ , is taken from the name of an album of one of my favourite musicians, the folk artist Richard Shindell. His songs provide me a great deal of inspiration.

 **Rating** – T (There will be more adult content later).

 **Disclaimer** – I did not create the Harry Potter universe sadly. That privilege will forever remain with JK Rowling.

 **CHAPTER ONE**

 _ **A Night-Time Visitor**_

 _Ten years. Ten years since the world changed. Ten years since I changed. I sometimes think that those of us who survived have seen it all. In many ways I've been dreading this day. It brings back all the memories of the people we lost, the sacrifices we made in order to defeat Voldemort. I don't need reminding of all the people who gave their lives to protect me. I see them in my dreams all the time. Mum and Dad, Sirius, Dumbledore, Remus and Tonks, Fred, and all the others. I try to tell myself it was worth it, but that seems like a pretty delusion. Who would have guessed that the triumph of good over evil would come at such a cost? But I suppose that's kind of point isn't it?_

 _They diagnosed me once I remember. About seven years ago, I couldn't focus on my work, I wasn't eating properly, I wasn't sleeping. Ginny was worried of course. I went to St Mungo's and they diagnosed me with delayed post-traumatic stress disorder. They gave me a whole load of potions that seemed to deal with the symptoms, but the bouts of depression have come and gone ever since. Even after they promoted me to Head of the Auror Office it didn't go away. I guess I'm still searching for answers, even after all this time._

Harry looked over at the clock on the wall of his office, and saw that it was two minutes to midnight. He glanced back down at his diary and saw that the ink had smudged a little on the last sentence. He sighed, opened one of the drawers to his left, removed a clean quill, and scratched out the offending sentences. He then set about rewriting it, and found that the words came out exactly the same way as the first time. It was clear that there was some feelings in there that needed to escape.

One minute to midnight now. In a little under sixty seconds it would be exactly ten years since the Battle of Hogwarts. They were having a commemoration, of course. He would be travelling to Hogwarts the next morning. There would speeches, ceremony, and a lot of laughter and tears, he expected. He would be required to say a few words. He had spent most of the evening trying to come up with the right thing to say, but his usual way with words had not been forthcoming this time. As that didn't seem to be working, he had decided to write an entry in his diary, hopeful that expressing how he was feeling about the whole occasion might make it a little easier to find the right turn of phrase. It hadn't.

He had only remembered about the event that afternoon when his secretary had reminded him. Clearly he was trying to put the whole thing out of his mind. He remembered the quizzical look she had given him when he told her to expect him early in the next morning. "But sir," she had said. "You're not in the office tomorrow. You've got the ceremony at Hogwarts. You know, the one commemorating the Battle of Hogwarts."

"Of course," he had replied, trying to stop the sinking feeling he had experienced his stomach from registering on his face. "I remember now. How could I forget?" He had looked at her with sudden interest. "You didn't fight in the Battle, did you Sarah?"

"No sir," she had said quickly. "I was only in third-year at the time. They evacuated us to Hogsmeade before the Battle started. My parents came and took me away before I could come back to the castle after it had finished."

"You didn't miss much," Harry had said with a small smile. "I can only apologise that nothing as interesting has happened in the Auror Office since I took over. And I thought I told you about calling me 'sir'."

"Sorry Harry. Your predecessor always insisted on me calling him 'sir'."

"Yes but he was a twat, so you needn't worry."

"I couldn't possibly comment."

Harry grinned, remembering the exchanges. He tried hard not to disrespect his predecessor as Head of the Auror Office, but the man had been so obnoxious during the hand-over period, it was difficult for Harry to feel anything other than contempt for the man. Jonathan Powell had made it very clear that he resented handing over the office to someone as young and "inexperienced" as Harry. But the Minister for Magic had insisted. Harry wouldn't much have liked to be in the meeting where Shacklebolt explained to Powell that he had been running the department for far too long and it was well past time that he retired.

Harry had spent the last twelve months as Head of the Auror Office. And yet sometimes it felt like he had barely scratched the surface of what was really going on within the Ministry of Magic. He had dedicated a lot of the year to trying to sort out the bureaucratic mass that the Department had become, and finally give the Aurors a little of the autonomy that they had been craving for so long. It wasn't easy to catch dark wizards when you were head to foot in paperwork, a complaint that Harry had a great deal of sympathy for. He had tried to reform the systems of checks and balances to make sure that the Aurors couldn't go round killing people's innocent grandmothers for looking at them the wrong way, yes, but were also not hamstrung in their attempts to catch those followers of Voldemort who had not been apprehended at the end of the War. These reforms had made him very popular.

Now that he had the respect of the witches and wizards that worked under him, the next task was to reform the Department so that it was better able to cope with the problems of the twenty-first century. Dark wizard detection had changed substantially in the ten years since the fall of Voldemort, but Harry couldn't help feeling that the techniques used by the Aurors were stuck in the past. He believed that it was time to make use of the better working relationship that had been established between the wizarding and Muggle governments. Greater co-operation between the two would make apprehending these dark wizards a great deal easier, and mean that Harry could go home in the evening occasionally.

The clock struck midnight. Harry reached forward and grabbed the calendar that he kept on his desk. He ripped the page that read '1 May' from the stack to reveal the next page underneath. It was now 2 May 2007. Ten years since the Battle of Hogwarts. He sighed, and put the calendar back on his desk. In a few hours he would have to make his way to his old school, to face all those people who had lost family and friends protecting him.

He was snapped out of his reverie by a sudden knock at the door. He looked up surprised. Surely there was no one else still at the Ministry at this time of night. He glanced round the office. It was hardly what you might call presentable at this time. There were piles of parchment strewn across the desk, and the filing cabinet was crooked and several of the drawers were open.

It was at this moment that it occurred to him that someone was knocking at his door in the middle of the night, and here he was worrying about how presentable his desk was. He remembered that, as the Head of the Auror Office and the man responsible for the fall of Lord Voldemort, he was something of a target for dark wizards. But, then again, in his considerable experience, homicidal maniacs intend on killing him didn't tend to knock first. He decided to play it safe and took his wand from his robes, pointing at the door.

"Come in!" he commanded loudly. There was a moment's silence, as though his visitor was considering his request, and then the door to his office opened.

The man standing on the threshold of his office was probably one of the last people Harry expected to be visiting him at midnight in the Ministry of Magic. It had been many years since he had last seen Draco Malfoy, but it looked, if anything, longer for the Slytherin. He looked haggard and tired, as though he had not had a good night's sleep in some time. But he still had his striking features, and his sleek blond hair. Although, Harry noted, he now had a dark beard to accompany it. Harry would never admit it to Malfoy, of course, but this new facial hair actually suited him. Malfoy was carrying a dark brown satchel, that was dangling from his left shoulder. Making a split-second decision, Harry lowered his wand.

"Well, well, well," said Harry. "This is a surprise."

"Believe me, I'm as surprised as you are Potter. Can I come in?"

Harry considered this for a moment. It was true that, over the years, his anger at Draco Malfoy had dissipated somewhat since the Battle of Hogwarts, but seven years of enmity and hostility were hard to just move on from immediately. Even if he could never admit it in public, there was still a large part of him that despised the man standing in front of him. Despised him for every attempt to make Harry's life a misery, despised him from every insult he threw at Harry's best friends. But, Harry reminded himself, thinking about his own father, people can change from when they're children. And in the end, Malfoy had played a part, however small, in the downfall of Voldemort, and Harry was grateful for that.

"It's very late," he said in the end. "But why not? Come in and sit down."

Harry could have sworn that Malfoy almost smiled as he closed the door behind, moved across the room, and sat down in the chair on the opposite side of his desk. "Nice place you've got here," said Malfoy, gesturing to one of the untidy stacks of parchment on Harry's desk. "It's bright, gaudy, and depressing. Very much like your home in Gryffindor tower."

"Yes," Harry shot back. "I apologise for the lack of chains. It must be difficult to see me in such an environment after my brief stay at Malfoy Manor all those years ago."

Malfoy looked like he was ready to retort himself, but he just opened his mouth and closed it again. There was a moment's silence. "Isn't it strange," said Malfoy in the end. "How quickly we've fallen into this pattern again. It seems that whenever we come near each other, we can't help but fall back into our old points-scoring routine."

Harry considered this for a second. It was true that some of the old anger that he felt towards Malfoy had flared again at the sight of him. "It's different now," he said.

"How so?" asked Malfoy.

"This time I've got one hundred and twenty highly trained and extremely dangerous Aurors that work for me, and are willing to do whatever I tell them. I win every argument we have as a result."

There was a moment's silence and then Malfoy actually laughed. To Harry this was simply remarkable, Malfoy was laughing at something that he had said. "A fair point. I didn't come here to argue with you anyway. I came to ask you for something."

"Is that so?" asked Harry, the sarcasm that he was clearly displaying in his voice disguising the interest that this statement had roused in him. "And what could you possibly want with me? We've never exactly been friends."

"No, we've never been friends," agreed Malfoy, shaking his head slightly. "And we probably never will be. There's far too much history between us."

There was another moment of silence. "What is it that you want?" asked Harry in the end.

"We've all changed a lot in the last few years," said Malfoy. "It's been a very hard time. You know that I lost my father a few months ago."

"Yes," replied Harry. "I read about it in the _Daily Prophet._ I'm...sorry." He said that because that was what you were supposed to say about such things, but the reality was that Harry struggled to summon up a huge amount of sympathy for the man. The only way he could was by concentrating on the fact that he had had a wife and child, and the help that they had given Harry in his final struggle with Voldemort.

"Thank you," said Malfoy. "I kind of figured that you would understand what it's like. I've spent a lot of the last few weeks sorting out my father's affairs. And it occurs to me that I never thanked you for what you did to keep him out of Azkaban. We both know that without your testimony in favour of him, the Wizengamot would have found him guilty."

"I don't need your thanks," said Harry, resenting the painful memories that Malfoy's words stirred in him. Those few months following Voldemort's death had been difficult ones. A lot of people had lost a great deal, and trying to pick up the pieces and put lives back together had been a terrible struggle "I didn't do what I did for his benefit, or for yours. I just thought that enough families had been torn apart. There was no need to add more."

"You might not need my thanks," replied Malfoy. "But it's there anyway."

Harry looked Malfoy straight in the eyes. It was clear that this was not the main reason why he had come to Harry's office in the dead of night. "Was there something else you wanted?"

"Yes," replied Malfoy, looking away from Harry, and around the office once more. "I've been doing a lot of thinking recently. About the War, about the mistakes that I made during it, about the people that died because of those mistakes." Harry waited patiently during this speech. It was clear that Malfoy was trying to avoid saying what it was. "Basically, the bottom line is that I want to start making up for those mistakes. I want a job."

Whatever Harry had been expecting Malfoy to ask of him, this was not it. "A job?"

Malfoy nodded. "You're a man with a long and dangerous past Potter. I wasn't on the right side during those times. I hope to be in the future. I hope to do better."

"Why?"

"Because I learned during the War that it's almost impossible to tell who the enemy is. I had always trusted my family more than anything, but after all the things that they did in the name of the Dark Lord, I didn't know if I really knew who they were anymore. But I've always known who you are. And I respect that. I want to help you."

Silence fell between them again. A moment later, Harry reached forward and opened one of the drawers on his desk. He withdrew a bottle of fire-whiskey and two glasses. "Drink?" he asked. Malfoy nodded, and Harry poured two measures of the amber liquid and passed one of them to Malfoy, holding the other in his right hand.

"It's an interesting proposition," said Harry. He had been taken totally by surprise by Malfoy's request, so much so that he had completely forgotten about all the other things that had been bothering him. This new intriguing mystery now had his complete attention. "I would have thought that the last thing in the world you wanted to do was work for me."

"Maybe a long time ago," replied Malfoy. "But times change. And so do I."

Harry thought for a moment. There was no doubt that Malfoy was one of the most magically gifted of their generation, perhaps second only to Hermione Granger. If he was part of the Auror Office, he would no doubt a highly valuable asset. But there were years of anger and resentment simmering away at the back of Harry's head.

"I'm sorry Malfoy," he said in the end. "But I don't think you working for me is a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't trust you." Malfoy opened his mouth, clearly to protest this statement, but Harry held up his hand. "Please, let me finish. I don't doubt what you say. About having changed and all that. But you're still the same person. You've still got all that greed and ambition that you had when I knew you before. I can't guarantee that that side of you won't flare up at the worst possible time."

"That's not me anymore. You've got to believe that."

"I can't," replied Harry. "It's been a long time since we saw each other. But you're still Draco Malfoy. Until you can prove to me, tangibly, that you've changed, I can't take that sort of risk." Harry was choosing his words very carefully, not wanting to cause Malfoy to fly off the handle. Contrary to what others might have expected, the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt the Slytherin's feelings too badly.

"How am I supposed to prove to you that I've changed?" asked Malfoy, a faint hint of desperation in his voice. It was clear that this was not the reaction he had wanted.

"I don't know Malfoy," said Harry honestly. "But until you can, I can't risk you working for me. I'm sorry."

Malfoy looked at him for a moment, and then looked away. He downed the whiskey in his glass, set it back down on the desk and stood up. "I understand," he said tersely. "Stupid of me to even ask."

"I don't resent you asking," said Harry, also standing up. "You're an incredibly talented wizard Malfoy. You can do anything you set your mind to. You don't need to work for me."

"Maybe you're right," replied Malfoy. "I just thought, after everything we'd been through..."

"I understand." Malfoy nodded and started to walk towards the door. As he opened it to leave, Harry couldn't resist saying, "The beard suits you by the way."

Malfoy turned and smiled slightly. "Thanks. Father would never had let me get away with growing a beard, but as he's not around anymore, I thought I'd try it out."

Malfoy walked out of Harry's office, closing the door behind him. Harry sat back down at his desk, taking a deep breath. The encounter with Malfoy had left him a little rattled. He had a nasty feeling of guilt in his stomach. Perhaps he had been too harsh on his old rival. Perhaps what he said about having changed was all true. He certainly sounded like he meant it.

Harry looked at the clock once more. It was now half past midnight. He sighed heavily. He still hadn't made any progress on the speech that he was supposed to be giving at Hogwarts. He supposed that he should go home to try and work on it there. But the thought of returning home didn't fill him with much joy either. It was not a particularly welcoming place to be anymore. Finally deciding on a course of action, he stood up, tucking the bottle of whiskey back inside the drawer of his desk, and walked slowly out of his office.

* * *

Harry apparated just outside his own front door. He looked around quickly to check that no one had seen him appear from thin air in the street. But, as one would expect at this time of night, there was no one around in the leafy little village in Hampshire that Harry now lived in. His Muggle friends were always impressed when he told them that he commuted to London every day, but of course he was holding back the key bit of information that his commute was shorter than all of theirs, even if they worked just down the road.

He took his keys from his jacket pocket and opened the front door. The house, as always, was dark and empty. He turned the light on in the hall and looked around. It was clear that the cleaner had been that day, as Harry never left it looking this tidy. He guessed it was a symptom of once having been confined to a cupboard under the stairs, but he had no sense of cleanliness or perspective when it came to big, open spaces, and this three-bed detached house in the countryside certainly counted as a big and open space.

He walked into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. He looked at the wall opposite the door and saw that a picture that he had recently taken down was back in its place. Clearly the cleaner had been confused by its absence and, assuming that it had been moved by accident, had put it back. The reality was, of course, that Harry had moved the picture quite deliberately to somewhere where he would not see it. He walked over to it and took it down from the wall again, making a mental note to remind the cleaner not to put it up again. He looked at it for a moment, and the face of Ginny Weasley frowned back up at him, before tucking it away in one of the drawers beside the oven. The last thing he needed right know was a reminder of that particular aspect of his past.

Pouring himself that glass of water, he retreated into the living room and lit the fire with a wave of his wand. Settling down in his favourite armchair, he tried again to get inspiration for the speech that he would have to deliver in a very few hours time. He stared at the piece of parchment for several minutes, thinking hard. Then, he reached into his robes, withdrew his quill and a bottle of ink, and began to write, thinking about his diary entry.

 _Ten years. Ten years since the world changed. Ten years since I changed._


	2. Chapter 2 - Night Thoughts

**Author Notes** – I loved writing this chapter, the concept for which came to me in the middle of night. We will return to the idea at the heart of this chapter later. I'm on holiday at the moment and so am able to update fairly regularly. Once I'm back at work it may slow down a little bit, but I'm thoroughly enjoying writing this, and I'm bursting with ideas for the story, so I will try to keep it as regular as possible.

 **Rating** – PG.

 **Disclaimer** – I did not create the Harry Potter universe sadly. That privilege will forever remain with JK Rowling.

 **CHAPTER TWO**

 _ **Night Thoughts**_

Harry knew he was having one of those dreams again. He really should have seen it coming, given everything that had happened that day. It had taken him a long time to fall asleep; he kept going over the speech that he had written in his head, and thinking about his conversation with Malfoy. It had been nearly ten years since he had first had once of these dreams, and they had been an infrequent part of his life ever since. He supposed it was something to do with what had happened in the Forbidden Forest all those years ago.

All the warning signs were there. The dreams always took place somewhere which had been a significant part of his life. Often he found himself standing at Kings Cross railway station, the place where he had first boarded the Hogwarts Express and started his new life. But over the years, he had also visited Grimmauld Place, the Ministry of Magic, and the abandoned ruins in France where he had finally tracked down Fenrir Greyback and brought him to justice, three months after he had been appointed as Head of the Auror Office.

But he had never been here before. If he had thought about it, of course, he should have guessed that this would be one of those places. It was here that he had found out that his godfather, Sirius Black, was in fact innocent of the murder of his parents, and they had formed the important bond that would help Harry through the next two years until Sirius' death at the Ministry of Magic. He had forgotten quite how unpleasant the Shrieking Shack was, but then haunted buildings were never exactly known for their aesthetic charm.

The Shrieking Shack had no doors and windows through which it could be accessed, with the only way in underneath the Whomping Willow in the Hogwarts grounds. Harry had no such problems entering the building in his dreams, however, and he simply walked through one of the stone walls and into the bedroom where Sirius, in the form of a dog, had once dragged Ron Weasley while being followed by Harry and Hermione. It looked more or less the same as Harry remembered, but, as was always the case in dreams, there were certain aspects of it that were slightly off. The large grandfather clock that stood in the corner had no hands, which according to his psychiatrist was one of the telltale signs that he was having a lucid dream. The bed with the moth-eaten mattress was exactly where he remembered, but the broken chair seemed to have repaired itself and was now fully functioning.

There was someone sitting on the chair. Harry had expected to see him ever since he had recognised that he was dreaming about the Shrieking Shack. It still came as a bit of a shock whenever he looked into the face of his old mentor. But he was always there in Harry's dreams. Albus Dumbledore, dressed in resplendent dark purple robes, was waiting for him.

"Has anyone ever told you that it's rude to invade someone's dreams without asking first? I could just smash my head against this wall and wake myself up," said Harry.

Dumbledore smiled. "I suppose you could try Harry. I'm not one hundred percent sure it would work. You should have realised by now that these are not ordinary dreams."

"I had a hunch," replied Harry. He clicked his fingers, and a second chair appeared from thin air, revolving slowly in midair before settling in the ground opposite the older man. "It doesn't stop it being bloody inconvenient though. I've got to give a very important speech tomorrow and it would be better if I got at least a couple of hours of proper sleep before I do."

"Oh yes. And what speech is that?"

"The commemoration of ten years since the Battle of Hogwarts of course. I would have thought you'd have known that."

"Harry, I'm the product of a psychic connection established during your accident in the Forbidden Forest that has never quite gone away. How on earth am I supposed to know exactly how much time has passed since then?"

"You might have taken a guess from the fact that I look about ten years older."

"Not to me you don't," replied Dumbledore. "You look exactly as I remember you."

"Well that's something to be grateful for. I don't need anyone else pointing out that my hair's started to go grey."

"That's a bit premature isn't it?" Dumbledore smiled. "That must be a symptom of working for the Ministry of Magic. I put my own longevity entirely down to never working there."

Over the years, Harry had grown more comfortable with speaking to Dumbledore as an equal, rather than a revered and fatherly figure. They discussed almost everything, so much so that Harry had reason to believe that he now knew his old Headmaster better than perhaps anyone else. It had been part of the agreement they had made the very first time they had met in Harry's dreams, that they would not hold back on anything. Harry supposed it was convenient that Dumbledore always seemed to appear during his most difficult times.

"What's troubling you Harry?" asked Dumbledore, fixing Harry with the kindly gaze that he was so used to. "There must have been a reason why I was summoned by your subconscious."

Harry considered his answer for the moment. There were two things that were concerning him at that particular moment: his speech to the families and friends of the people who had died during the Battle of Hogwarts; and his encounter with Draco Malfoy. He thought about which one he wanted to discuss first, and settled on the answer almost straight away.

"Draco Malfoy came to see me today," he said. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows with interest but didn't say anything. "He wanted me to give him a job."

"Did he now?" asked Dumbledore, sounding both amused and pleased at the same time. "Well that's progress I suppose. What did you say to him?"

Harry looked away from Dumbledore's gaze for a second. He could guess what his old mentor would make of his actions, he would say that Malfoy deserved a second chance, that he should be more willing to forgive, and take Malfoy at his word that he had changed. "I told him no," said Harry eventually. "I didn't think I could trust him."

"And do you feel that was the right decision?" asked Dumbledore.

"I'm not sure," replied Harry. "I know it's been ten years, and goodness knows people can change a lot in that time. But it's still Draco Malfoy isn't it?"

Dumbledore seemed to consider this for a moment. He stood up and started to pace around the room. Harry hated it when he did that, it was always felt as though Dumbledore was having a conversation with himself to which Harry wasn't invited. About a minute or so later, Dumbledore stopped pacing. "Let's take a trip shall we Harry?"

The Shrieking Shack dissolved. For a moment, Harry found himself surrounded by a brilliant white light that obscured his vision. At the edge of his consciousness, he could feel himself travelling through space, but he couldn't see anything around him. Just as he began to feel a little queasy, he felt himself come to a halt, and the white light began to clear.

He recognised where he was immediately. The dark halls and rooms of Malfoy Manor had been burned into his memory after the terrible events that had happened there. He spotted that he was back in the Malfoy's drawing room once again. The large crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling and the imposing portraits that decorated the walls were just as they had been when Harry had visited the house over a decade previously.

Harry looked around the room. Stood beside him was Dumbledore, who gave him an encouraging smile. As the white light cleared completely, Harry noticed that the two of them were not alone in the room. "Oh, you've got to be joking," he said, as he realised exactly where and when they were. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were standing imperiously with their son, towering over three people who were slumped in the corner of the room. Harry could make out Ron and Hermione's terrified faces, but he didn't recognise the third figure, whose facial features were heavily distorted. It was then that he remembered the jinx that Hermione had cast on him to disguise his facial features, and that the third figure with the swollen and disfigured face was in fact Harry himself.

" _They say they've got Potter_ ," said Narcissa, her voice as cold and piercing as Harry remembered it. " _Draco, come here._ "

Harry watched with Dumbledore as Draco moved from his armchair to stand in front of the younger version of Harry, looking at him carefully. Another man moved from the shadows of the corner of the room, and Harry felt his rage boil over in his stomach as he recognised the figure of Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf that it had taken Harry so long to track down. " _Well, boy?_ " snarled the werewolf, leering at Malfoy, and it was only now that Harry properly came to understand the fear that Malfoy must have been feeling at that moment.

" _Well Draco?_ " came the excited voice of Lucius Malfoy, who had moved over to join his son. " _Is it? Is it Harry Potter?_ "

" _I can't – I can't be sure_ ," replied Draco. Harry studied Malfoy carefully at this moment. It was obvious, he supposed in hindsight, that Draco was lying. It was clear that he had recognised Harry straight away, but had been undergoing a massive internal struggle over whether to tell the assembled Death Eaters. Just as he had when he had trapped Dumbledore at the top of the Astronomy Tower but had proved unable to finish his mission.

Harry watched the rest of the conversation play out just as it had before. It was incredibly difficult, knowing what was coming, not to attempt to interfere. But he knew that this was just a dream, that the events he was watching had long since already happened, and that any attempt to change them would be utterly futile. He observed Bellatrix order the younger version of himself and Ron taken to the cellar, while Hermione remained behind. But instead of following his own story again, however, both he and Dumbledore remained in the drawing room, as Bellatrix looked down at the cowering figure of Hermione.

"I don't want to see this," said Harry, feeling a sudden surge of panic and regret, knowing what was about to happen. "Hearing it from the cellar was bad enough."

"This is important," replied Dumbledore, without looking at Harry, and continuing to stare passively at the scene in front of them.

Hermione's screams were even worse than Harry remembered. The three Malfoys stood apart and watched as Bellatrix demanded to know what they had taken from her vault at Gringotts. Looking away from the horrible sight unfolding in front of him, Harry looked at Malfoy instead. His face was impossible to read. It looked as though he was trying desperately to remain impassive, but his eyes betrayed the horror that he was feeling.

" _This isn't working!_ " spit Bellatrix theatrically, breaking the Cruciatus Curse and turning to the Malfoys. " _We must find out what they have taken from my vault!_ "

She looked manic as she looked from one Malfoy to another, before her gaze settled on Draco. " _Perhaps you can get the information out of her Draco!_ " she said, her voice dripping with malevolence. " _The Dark Lord would be most grateful._ "

Draco couldn't even bring himself to meet her gaze. Harry spotted both his parents stiffen slightly at Bellatrix's words, but both were too well-trained to let any sign of emotion actually manifest itself. " _I don't know what you think exactly my son can_ -" began Lucius Malfoy, but Bellatrix cut him off with a single dangerous look.

" _Come Draco. Draw your wand_ ," ordered Bellatrix. Malfoy looked desperately at his mother and father, both of whom were unable to meet his eyes. Clearly realising that there was no help coming, Draco stepped forward, taking his wand from out of his black robes. " _Now use the Cruciatus Curse on the Mudblood, Draco_!" ordered Bellatrix.

Draco moved to stand in front of Hermione, who stared up at him with abject terror in her face. Draco looked at her for a moment. " _Do it or the Dark Lord will punish you severely Draco!_ " screamed Bellatrix.

But Draco didn't move. He simply stood there, frozen, with his wand pointing at Hermione. It was taking all of Harry's effort not to shout out, to implore Draco not to do it, even though he knew that no one in the room could see or hear them. Bellatrix looked expectantly at Draco, but he still wasn't moving. It was clear that he wasn't capable of doing it.

Bellatrix snarled with rage. " _Weak!_ " she shrieked, and lashed out with his hand, knocking Draco backwards. He stumbled back, and his mother caught him. Harry saw that Draco's lip was bleeding and he looked utterly defeated. Harry felt a huge surge of sympathy for his rival, mixed with gratitude that he had not joined in torturing Hermione, simply in order to spare himself from Voldemort's wrath.

" _You are just like your parents,_ " said Bellatrix, her voice dripping with venom. " _You do not have what it takes to serve the Dark Lord!_ " Draco shrunk away from her anger.

Harry watched as Greyback re-entered the room, a ghoulish grin on his face as he looked down at Hermione. " _What is it to be done with the Mudblood?_ " he snarled, looking at Bellatrix with hunger in his eyes.

" _I think we can dispose of the Mudblood_ ," said Bellatrix, smiling nastily at Draco. " _Greyback, take her if you want her._ "

" _NO!_ " came the shout of Ron's voice as the door burst open. But from this perspective, Harry also heard Draco shout out the same thing, but his voice was lost under the sudden commotion. " _Expelliarmus!_ " Harry remembered it well, watching Bellatrix's wand flying into the air and into his own hand, his face now restored to normal.

"I think," said Dumbledore, seemingly unconcerned by the struggle that was going on around them. "We have seen enough. Come along, let us return to the Shrieking Shack."

The scene dissolved once more. Harry was again surrounded by the brilliant white light and then felt his feet leave the ground as he travelled across the realm of his consciousness. A moment later, both he and Dumbledore had reappeared in the Shrieking Shack, sitting in the same chairs they had been before they had left.

"I don't suppose you'd mind telling me how you managed to do that," said Harry.

"I'm dead Harry," replied Dumbledore, by way of explanation.

Harry frowned. "And why did you show me that particular moment?"

"I would have thought that was obvious Harry," replied Dumbledore. "You are determined to believe that Draco Malfoy, as your former arch-enemy and rival, is incapable of changing. You are wrong. He had started to demonstrate those changes even before the death of Voldemort and circumstance forced him and his family to choose sides.

"The truth is that Draco had been having doubts about his service to Voldemort for some time. You saw it yourself when he was incapable of killing me on top of the Astronomy Tower, and Severus was able to intervene to complete the task. And now you have seen it while you were trapped at Malfoy Manor. I do not mind telling you that Voldemort punished Draco severely for failing to torture Miss Granger. Draco knew what would happen to him. And yet he still couldn't bring himself to hurt your friend."

Harry looked into Dumbledore's eyes. "So you're saying that I should trust Malfoy and give him the job?" he asked.

"I'm not saying that," replied Dumbledore, and Harry sighed, somehow knowing that Dumbledore wouldn't given him a straight answer. "What I'm saying Harry is that you shouldn't let your past rivalry change your decision. Draco is not the same person you knew when you were both at Hogwarts. He is a better person and you should at least acknowledge it when you make that decision."

Harry thought about this. Clearly if what Dumbledore had shown him was true, then he would have to re-evaluate what he thought about Malfoy. "If someone who was as talented as Draco, without the name of Malfoy, came to you and offered you their help in tracking down some of the most dangerous wizards in the world, some of whom he knows very well, what would you say?" asked Dumbledore.

"I would leap at the chance," replied Harry. "Of course I would."

"Then maybe you have your answer Harry," said Dumbledore with a smile. "Draco Malfoy has offered you his help, and you have to decide whether you're going to take advantage of that offer."

Harry grinned back at him. "All right fine. I'll think about it all right? But I'm not promising anything. He may not want to after I rebuffed him the first time."

"I think that once again you misunderstand the man Harry. He is determined to do this."

"Do you know something," said Harry. "Considering you're a random electrical impulse firing in my brain, I seem to base a lot of my life choices around your advice."

"I remember our last conversation well," replied Dumbledore. "How is Miss Weasley?"

Harry tensed up slightly. "A little too soon for that conversation I think," replied Harry. "We'll take about it next time, whenever that may be."

"As you wish," said Dumbledore. He held one of his hands up, as though testing the atmosphere. "I think I can sense you beginning to wake up. Good luck tomorrow Harry. I'm sure the speech will be fine. I'll see you soon enough."

"Yes I imagine you will," said Harry.

He felt himself lift over the ground and the white light enveloped him again. He felt the world become steadily more solid, and a few seconds later, he awoke. He was lying in his bed at home, as he always was when he left his lucid dreams. He looked over at his alarm clock and saw that it was half past five in the morning. He knew that he would never get back to sleep now, and so dragged himself out of bed. In a couple of hours he would travel to Hogwarts, hoping to see Draco Malfoy and make right his previous mistake.


	3. Chapter 3 - Painful Responsibilities

**Author Notes** – I will now be taking this story up again. I've decided the only way to respond to the terrible developments of the last week is to make some positive changes to my own life. One of those is to take up writing regularly again. So while I can't promise an entirely regular schedule of updates, I do hope to spend more time on these stories now. Hope you enjoy this chapter – there's still plenty to more to come. Please review and share as always.

 **Rating** – PG

 **Disclaimer** – I did not create the Harry Potter universe sadly. That privilege will forever remain with JK Rowling.

 **CHAPTER THREE**

 _ **Painful Responsibilities**_

Harry appeared from thin air in the shadow of the castle he loved so much. After a great deal of negotiation, the Ministry had convinced Professor McGonagall to lower the anti-apparition barriers which surrounded Hogwarts for the duration of the remembrance ceremony. They had decided that it simply wasn't practical for thousands of witches and wizards to swamp the village of Hogsmeade and then travel up to the castle by foot. Harry had tried suggesting using the carriages to transport people but, according to Hagrid, the Thestrals were only contracted to work at the beginning and end of each school term.

Hogwarts looked exactly as he remembered it. It had been about six months since he had last visited the castle. Following the Battle of Hogwarts, there had been a tremendous rebuilding effort which had restored Hogwarts to its former glory. They had also taken the opportunity to add a couple more towers to the castle while the interior design was in flux.

"No place like home," muttered Harry as he walked up the stone steps which led to the huge oak front doors to the castle. There was no one else about – he had decided to arrive a couple of hours before the visitors in order to gather his thoughts for the day's events.

The doors opened as he approached, revealing the vast Entrance Hall. Harry looked fondly around at the golden hourglasses which marked the number of points which each house had accumulated over the school year and noted with satisfaction that Gryffindor was currently in the lead. Standing by the Grand Staircase which led to all the other parts of the castle was Professor McGonagall. Harry smiled and waved then walked over to join her.

"Welcome back Harry," she said, before pulling him into a hug. She patted him on the back affectionately before they broke apart again. "This place is never quite the same without you."

"I've always thought I brought a certain je ne sais quoi to the atmosphere myself," he replied, grinning. "How is it here?"

"Let's go to my office," she said, looking around to see if there was anyone else in the vicinity. "We've got lots to catch up on."

Harry walked with Professor McGonagall to her office on the second floor. They talked comfortably about old times, reliving the terrible period when Hogwarts had fallen under the control of Dolores Umbridge. Harry had only discovered later the degree to which Professor McGonagall had assisted the students with their disruptive and restricted activities during that time.

The Headmistress' office had changed a little during Professor McGonagall's time there. Gone were the spinning and whirring contraptions of Dumbledore's tenure, along with Fawkes of course. Instead, the spindly tables had been replaced with comfortable armchairs and sofas. The books which lined a number of the walls were still in place, although Harry noted that there were rather fewer than there had been when Dumbledore had occupied the office. The portraits of previous Headmasters and Headmistresses were still proudly in their places, however. Harry nodded to the picture of Severus Snape, hanging just beside Dumbledore himself, who mirrored his gesture.

"Have a seat Harry," said McGonagall, before tapping the kettle she kept on a small table beside her desk with her wand. It emitted a small whistling sound before rising into the air and pouring hot water into two tea cups. "And have a biscuit," she added, gesturing to the large box of assorted treats on the small coffee table next to the armchair Harry had just sat down in. Knowing better than to refuse, Harry helped himself to a custard cream.

"How are you feeling about today?" she asked after a moment's silence.

Harry took a sip of tea before answering. "Not sure," he answered truthfully. "It's gonna be tough."

"I understand," replied Professor McGonagall, looking at him warmly. "Even after ten years, I still have nightmares about it."

They shared a look of understanding at that. Harry knew how hard it had been for Professor McGonagall to lose so many of the students under her care. Harry doubted that she would ever forget the pain of that loss – she felt it just as much as he did.

"But it's important," he said. "We have to respect the dead, and we have to teach the students now about what can happen if they let hatred and division take hold."

"Quite right," she replied, raising her teacup in agreement. "How are you getting on with your speech? Was the letter I sent you helpful?"

"Yes," Harry said untruthfully. "It's a difficult one to pitch. But after years of delivering reports and statements to the Wizengamot about all sorts of difficult stuff, I think I'm getting the hang of it."

"Of course. And what about...?" But she left the sentence unfinished and Harry had a nasty feeling that they were heading towards a territory he didn't really want to discuss. He felt a sudden stab of annoyance that everyone seemed to know about the troubles in his personal life.

"Ginny and I decided that it would be better for both of us if we had some time apart," he said. He felt the familiar surge of anger and clenched his left fist to avoid it boiling over. "That's all there is to it," he finished after a moment.

"I understand," said McGonagall. "And I didn't mean to pry. I still worry about you all you know."

Harry felt his anger soften a little and he smiled at his old mentor. "Thank you," he said. "But there's not much else to say about it." He was lying, of course. "Now, if you'll excuse me Professor, I need to go and put the finishing touches to my speech. Would you mind if I used the library?"

"Of course not Harry," she replied, standing up. "You know the way. I need to go and get ready for the arrival of our guests. The extra work the house-elves have been putting in for the feast is remarkable – I don't think they've ever had to cater for so many. They'll want pay rises I'm sure."

"You can blame Hermione for that," Harry joked, but then felt a sudden rush of sadness. "I'll see you later," he added quickly before draining the rest of his tea and heading off to the library.

* * *

Harry decided to wait in the library until he could be sure that most of the guests had arrived. There was a reception in the Great Hall which was due to be followed by speeches by the Minster of Magic, Professor McGonagall, Colin Creevey's mother, and Harry of course. If Harry thought putting his speech together had been difficult, he could only imagine what Joanna Creevey must be going through. Harry felt the familiar pangs of guilt that he had not been kinder to Colin while they had both been students.

His speech had finally come together as something coherent you could deliver in front of hundreds of people. He still wasn't entirely happy with it, but he at least tried to convey some of the emotions he was feeling as he remembered the events of a decade ago.

He checked his watch and saw that it was time for him to go and show his face at the reception. He didn't relish the opportunity of seeing some of the people who would be there, but he had no choice. He rolled out the parchment on which he had written his speech, tucked it inside his robes, and left the library for the Great Hall.

When he reached the Great Hall, he saw that the four House tables had disappeared from their usual positions. Instead, the floor of the far half of the room was lined with hundreds of chairs arranged in neat rows, and a lectern had appeared in front of the top table where the speeches would be delivered from. In the nearer half of the room, hundreds of witches and wizards stood in small groups, talking to each other while sipping drinks and eating canapés delivered by house elves carrying sliver plates between the assembled guests. Harry wasn't entirely certain, but he could have sworn that the Great Hall had expanded slightly to accommodate everyone who had arrived for the commemoration ceremony.

Harry stepped over the threshold into the room and waited for the inevitable reaction. Luckily it seemed that only a few of the people nearest to him had noticed he had entered the room while most had carried on talking happily. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and moved over to talk to a couple of his Ministry colleagues. Keeping as low a profile as possible was high on his priority list at that particular moment.

"Ah there you are Harry my boy," said a voice from behind him after he had been speaking to his friend from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magic Creatures for a few minutes. He turned to see Horace Slughorn walking slowly towards him. The old man now walked with a large wooden cane, but he had lost none of his energy and enthusiasm. He had retired again from Hogwarts a couple of years previously but Harry had occasionally seen him at the odd social event.

"Horace," he said, injecting as much cheer into his voice as the situation would allow. "Good to see you." He grasped his old Professor by the hand. He decided that Slughorn was suitably inoffensive to spend the rest of the time before the official ceremony started with.

"And you my boy," replied Slughorn, before reaching down to grab a small pastry construction from a passing house elf. "Tell me," he continued. "Have you had any luck tracking down Kaladesh?"

Harry jumped a little at the mention of the name and looked quickly around to check that no one was listening in on their conversation. Luckily his colleagues had gone off to join another group of guests so no one had heard what Slughorn had said. "How do you know about him?" Harry whispered – once again admiring at the way Slughorn seemed to have his fingers in every pie going.

"Oh my boy, I thought it was common knowledge."

"No you didn't."

"Oh all right then. I heard it from a good friend of mine who still works in the Ministry. Can't give you a name of course – he told me in confidence."

"I see," said Harry, making a mental note to make sure his Department was better suited to deal with leaks that it currently was. "Well, seeing as you already know. No. I'm afraid we don't have anything new at the moment. His last known whereabouts were crossing the Atlantic, but where he went after that we've no idea. I've got my contacts in America and Canada working flat out but it's been a while since they reported back."

Slughorn nodded. "I understand of course," he said. "Cooperation between different Ministries of Magic was a struggle even back in my younger days. I remember this one incident, back in the twenties I think it was, when the American Magical Congress..."

Harry started to zone out at that particular moment. It was easier to let Slughorn talk for a while and just make the occasional affirmative noise to show he was still in the room. After a few minutes of this, Slughorn suddenly tapped him on the shoulder and Harry snapped back to attention. "Ah ha, there's your friend Mr Weasley."

Harry turned to look round and was suddenly face to face with Ron. He felt the muscles in his face tighten considerably but he managed to force the corner of his lips up slightly. "Hello," he said to Ron's impassive face.

There was a moment of silence, which to Harry felt like it might have lasted several hours. "Hi," replied Ron eventually. "Excuse me, I need to find Hermione." And with that, Ron had swept passed him, heading for the other side of the room. Harry couldn't help feeling that Ron wanted to get as far away from him as possible. Not that Harry particularly blamed him for that.

"Everything all right Harry?" asked Slughorn, looking at him with a concerned expression on his face.

"Yes thanks," replied Harry shortly. The last thing he needed was someone else inquiring after his wellbeing, it became incredibly draining after a while. "Excuse me one moment Horace," he said, having just spotted Draco Malfoy walk into the Great Hall. "I just need to have a word with someone."

"Of course, I'll see you after the ceremony," said Slughorn.

Harry started to make his way towards Malfoy, hoping to speak with him before the ceremony started. But he had barely made it two steps before there was the sound of someone's magically enhanced voice clearing their throat. Harry looked up at the top table, but couldn't see anyone standing in front of the lectern.

"If I could have your attention please ladies and gentlemen," said a squeaky voice, which Harry recognised immediately as the Deputy Headmaster, Professor Flitwick. Harry realised that Flitwick's voice was coming from behind the lectern, but the small teacher was simply not tall enough to be seen over the top of it. "The ceremony is about to start. If you could take your seats please."

There was some commotion as several hundred people started to move across the Great Hall to sit in the rows of chairs which had been arranged facing the top table. Harry lost himself in the crowd for a few moments before heading over to the top table where the guests of honour would be sitting.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Professor Flitwick again, after everyone had taken their seats and silence had fallen. "I would like to welcome our first speaker: the Minister for Magic."

There was a round of polite applause as Kingsley Shacklebolt stood from his chair and made his way over the lectern to deliver his speech.

Kingsley was a pretty good public speaker, as Harry had discovered after attending many events and functions during their time together in the Ministry. Having served for nearly ten years, Kingsley was the longest serving Minister for Magic since the 1800s. He had recently announced that he would be stepping down at the end of the summer, and the race to succeed him had already started within the corridors of the Ministry of Magic.

Kingsley spoke for a while about the importance of remembrance. Professor McGonagall talked about the work they had done at Hogwarts since the Battle to bring the houses together and foster 'a new era of cooperation and trust'. Harry couldn't help but smile at that knowing that the old enmities between the houses would surely still run as deeply today as they ever had. And then Joanna Creevey brought the entire room to tears with her heartbreaking tribute to her son. Harry was sure his speech wouldn't be able to do hers justice.

After Professor Flitwick announced his name, Harry stood up and slowly made his way to the lectern. It felt like a lot further than it had looked just a moment before. As they had for the previous speakers, the guests clapped politely. Harry very deliberately didn't look to see whether any of the Weasley family were joining in with the clapping. He stood at the lectern, nodding and smiling at a couple of people as the applause died down.

"Thank you Professor Flitwick," he said, his voice a little hesitant, displaying some of the misgivings he was feeling in the pit of his stomach. "And thank you to Professor McGonagall, the Minister, and most especially to you Joanna. I was proud to call Colin a friend and we are all much worse off every day that your son isn't in our lives anymore."

He thought that was pretty solid as an opening. Unfortunately, at that particular moment, he happened to spot Ginny sitting in the audience. She was looking back at him with a fixed and unreadable expression. Their eyes met for a moment and Harry suddenly felt himself lose all sense of the situation. He stuttered over his next words and quickly looked away, down at his parchment. He had known that this might happen, but he still wasn't quite prepared for it.

He knew the crowd could sense that something wasn't quite right. He tried to regain his composure and decided to opt for honesty as a tactic. "I've never pretended to like talking about what happened here ten years ago. Everyone here knows and loves someone we lost. But to know that those people died to give me a chance makes it even more difficult. Because to live after others die can be a painful responsibility..."

Just as he felt he was getting into his stride, there was a sudden commotion from the back of the Great Hall. Harry looked up to see a man in the back row jump to his feet, knocking his golden chair backwards onto the floor with a clatter. Harry watched, as though in slow motion, as the man reached inside his robes and withdrew a wand. Harry realised what was happening a moment later, even before the man had shouted, "For the Dark Lord!" and brought his wand to bear at the lectern Harry was standing at.

Harry knew it had been a bad idea to let Hogwarts relax their security for the commemoration.


	4. Chapter 4 - A New Recruit

**Author Notes** : I wrote this chapter on a train going down to London and I thoroughly enjoyed the whole process. It's one of the chapters which have been planned from the beginning of the story. I'll try to update as soon as I can as I'm trying to get into a regular schedule of writing now. As ever, please review and share – thanks to everyone for reading!

 **Rating** – T for language.

 **Disclaimer** – I did not create the Harry Potter universe sadly. That privilege will forever remain with JK Rowling.

 **CHAPTER FOUR**

 _ **A New Recruit**_

Harry had survived a number of assassination attempts already, of course, even after the fall of Voldemort. His status as the one who finally defeated the Dark Lord had made him a prime target for dark wizards all across the world, many of whom wanted to prove their ascendancy by taking down the Boy Who Lived. Despite this, he refused to have Auror protection everywhere he went. For a start, it would be a serious handicap on his personal life and he was fairly confident that he could look after himself. For political reasons as well, it was important that the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement projected an "everything is fine" attitude to the outside world. Harry often lamented how quickly he had become part of the Ministry establishment and started thinking like them – as much as he tried to resist it.

The last assassination attempt had not been particularly well thought-out, Harry remembered. One of the Death Eaters who had escaped after the Battle of Hogwarts – and there had been a few, far more than the public knew about – had been in hiding for years and had finally decided to strike when Harry was working on a field operation in Europe. Why Redmond had chosen to attack him at one of the few times when he was accompanied by several highly-trained and extremely dangerous Aurors remained a complete mystery. They had swiftly dealt with him and he had been sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban (now thankfully free of Dementors) within a couple of months.

Harry had got used to the fact that he would never be entirely safe. He had been living with that reality since he was eleven years old. But, even after everything, he couldn't help lament the fact that on a stage with such high-profile targets as the Minister for Magic and the Headmistress of Hogwarts, he was one that the would-be assassin had chosen to target.

There was a collective gasp, and a couple of screams, from the crowd as the man brought his wand down to point at Harry. Harry was just wondering whether his reactions would be quick enough this time when another figure came flying out of nowhere and collided with the assassin. As both of them toppled backwards on to the hard stone floor, with an unpleasant sounding crack, Harry spotted a mop of white blond hair and realised who it was who had tackled the assailant – reacting faster than Harry could ever have dreamed of doing himself.

For a moment, Harry just stood there dumbfounded as Draco Malfoy wrestled with the man on the ground. Then reality came back to him, and he hurried from the podium and down the aisle in the middle of the golden chairs. "Everyone else stay back!" he ordered, as the two men continued to struggle on the ground. There was a loud groaning sound as Malfoy delivered a particularly well-aimed punch. The would-be assassin's wand went clattering off across the floor. As Malfoy rolled off the other man, Harry pointed his wand and shouted " _Incarcerus!_ " Thick ropes shot from the end of his wand and wrapped themselves around the man's hands and ankles so that he couldn't move.

At that moment, the door to the Great Hall burst open and several Aurors, who had been keeping guard outside and been alerted by the commotion, came running into the room. "Late again my friends," he said to his assembled officers. "We'll be having words about this later. Take him away; find out who he is and who he works for." Two of the Aurors lifted the man to his feet and escorted him out of the Great Hall.

Harry turned to Malfoy and there was a moment of awkward silence between the two. "Erm...thank you," he said eventually, and held out his hand.

Malfoy took it. "Don't mention it," he replied. "Who'd have thought you'd need me of all people to look out for you?" he added, with a slight smile.

"Yes...well, let's talk about that later shall we?" said Harry, as he suddenly remembered that they were still surrounded by several hundred scared-looking people. "I don't about you," he said, loudly enough so that his voice carried to the rest of the room. "But after that, I could really do with a drink!"

An hour or so later, the House tables had been reassembled for the feast and the guests were all seated and enjoying the excellent Hogwarts cuisine. Harry had asked Professor McGonagall where all the students were having dinner while the commemoration guests occupied the Great Hall. "Oh it's very simple Harry," she replied with a mischievous smile. "The students are all still here. But we've moved them one second out of sync with us in time, so that we can all enjoy the Great Hall at the same time."

"I see," Harry had replied. "I suppose it saves you having to build another Great Hall."

He had spent an enjoyable dinner with Neville – now Professor Longbottom – and his fiancé. However, his mind kept wondering to Draco Malfoy and looking over to the Slytherin table where Draco was sitting with some of his old friends from Hogwarts. If Harry had had any lingering doubts before about whether he wanted Draco working for him, the day's events had dispelled them. Draco had proved himself to be more than capable of handling a job in the Department and Harry wasn't going to waste any more time before offering it to him.

But one of the reasons Harry enjoyed spending time with Neville is that he didn't insist on asking him about his personal life. The Weasley family had avoided any potential awkwardness by sitting at the Hufflepuff table with Amos and Ruth Diggory instead. Harry had briefly caught Hermione's eye after the ceremony, and she had smiled at him sadly, before joining Ron and the other Weasleys. Harry had hoped that Ron might want to speak to him, but they had not said anything to each other since their encounter before the ceremony.

"I'll tell you what," said Neville, as the conversation turned towards plans for the future. "I've only been teaching for a few weeks and I'm already exhausted. I don't know how McGonagall has managed to do it for nearly fifty years."

"Well she's not like the rest of us," Harry reminded him and Neville grinned. "She's much cooler than me or you for a start."

They were just finishing dessert when Harry noticed Draco get up from the Slytherin table and head towards the Entrance Hall in order, Harry assumed, to use the toilets. "Excuse me for a minute – there's some business I've got to attend to," he said to Neville, and followed Draco out of the Great Hall.

"And just where do you think you're going?" he called out, after they had moved out of earshot of the Great Hall.

Draco turned around in surprise and looked at him. "Where do you think?" he asked incredulously. "Honestly I've had enough of you following me into bathrooms for one lifetime!"

"Sure thing," replied Harry, trying hard to suppress a grin. "Tell you what, you do what you've gotta do and I'll wait here for you. I think we should talk."

"Right, yes, of course," said Draco. He looked uncertain for a moment, and then shook his head slightly before turning around and hurrying off to the bathroom. Harry watched him go, feeling ever so-slightly disconcerted. A few days ago, he had barely given Draco Malfoy a second thought for months and now they were joking around in each other's company.

When Draco returned, they found a deserted classroom on the first floor to talk. "What will happen to that man who tried to kill you?" Draco asked as they sat down on chairs facing each other across the teacher's desk. Harry tried not to chuckle at how much it looked like they were conducting a job interview.

"Oh I expect my Aurors will find out everything about him. They're very...thorough," he replied, giving Malfoy a pointed-look over the top of his glasses.

"Well that's reassuring," replied Draco. "I'm pleased to see you haven't let standards slip in the Department. Although it took them long enough to realise that someone was trying to kill you."

"Yes it's been noted. Still, there's not much need for them if I've got you around, is there?"

Harry could tell it was taking Draco a moment to process exactly what it was he had said. "You mean..." Draco began and Harry nodded earnestly. "You're serious? Is this about what happened this afternoon?"

"Partly," said Harry. "But to be honest, I'd be reconsidering before that anyway. I just hadn't had the chance to tell you."

"Why?"

"Well..." Harry faltered for a moment. He wasn't entirely sure that admitting it was an internal apparition of their old Headmaster which had changed his mind was such a good idea. "I just had a chance to sleep on it. I was unfair to you when we met in my office."

"No, you treated me fairly," Draco insisted, and Harry was surprised at the openness of their conversation after so many years of enmity. "If I was in your position, I'd be cautious too."

"Well fuck being cautious," Harry said, and Draco grinned. "You know me – since when has being cautious been one of _my_ defining characteristics."

"Fair point," replied Draco. "So, what exactly did you have in mind for me?"

Harry considered this for a moment. After everything that had happened in the previous 24 hours, he had never stopped to think about what exactly he would want Draco doing for him. "Well, I've got a few ideas. But you'll have to give me some time to think about it. This has all been pretty unexpected."

"I get it," said Draco, sounding quite excited about the prospect of working in the Auror Office. "Never thought I'd see the day when I'd be helping Harry Potter catch Death Eaters. To think what my father would say..." There was a moment's silence after that and Draco looked away sadly.

"It's all right," said Harry gently. "I know what you're going through."

"Yeah," replied Draco. "I just like to think he would be proud of me. That's all I've ever wanted really. And I know that's led me down some pretty dark roads. But he was still my Dad."

"It's never easy being an only-child," admitted Harry, and Draco nodded. "All the weight of that expectation. Even though my parents weren't around, I still felt that responsibility to live up to the family name. I can only imagine the kind of pressure that put on you."

"You're not wrong. The family name is the most important thing to the Malfoys. I sometimes think if we just got on with being the best people we could be and not worry about what our ancestors thought of us, we'd all be much better off."

"Ha, who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?" asked Harry. "Seriously though – you've changed."

"Ten years to reflect on your mistakes tends to do that to a person," replied Draco.

"Well that sounds like more than enough reflecting time for one person," said Harry, getting to his feet. Draco mirrored his action. "Now let's get on with doing the best we can. Welcome onboard Draco." He held out his hand once again and Draco took it, smiling. "I can't promise it'll be safe and secure employment. But it certainly won't be dull."

"I'll take it," said Draco. "Now, let's get back to the Great Hall shall we? Professor McGonagall mentioned something about free wine and I think I've more than earned it today."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," said Harry and he gestured towards the door of the classroom. "After you, Mr Malfoy."

* * *

Harry made his way down to the Great Hall the next morning feeling considerably worse for wear. Thanks largely to his own efforts, the after-ceremony dinner had turned more into an all-night party. There had been drinking and dancing into the small hours of the morning, at which point Professor McGonagall had gallantly arranged for most of the remaining guests to be given accommodation for the night. Harry couldn't help feeling that they had got it right the previous day: a commemoration of those they had lost followed by a reminder of the joys of being alive. He had spent most of the time with Draco Malfoy, catching up on old times – the rivalry, which to Harry's immense relief and surprise, they could now laugh about with a relaxed atmosphere.

He sat down at the top table next to Professor McGonagall. He stared at the piles of eggs and bacon in front of him hungrily. It was a few moments before he realised that McGonagall was engaging him in conversation. "I'm sorry Professor," he said, looking at her and feeling his head pound. "What were you saying? I'm a little bit hungover."

Professor McGonagall smiled and leaned across to whisper in his ear. "To be honest with you Potter, so am I." She winked at him and returned to her toast.

Harry felt a huge rush of affection for his old Head of House, but managed not to blurt it out in front of everyone at the breakfast table. Since he had split up with Ginny, he found it much harder to contain some of his emotions. The people who worked for him had noticed, of course. His tendency to get angry or frustrated for seemingly no reason had meant there was a tenser atmosphere in the Department. He tried his best to keep it under control, but he knew that his therapist would tell him that it was another symptom of his post-traumatic stress disorder.

He looked out at the assembled guests and spotted Hermione sitting alone at the Gryffindor table. He cast his eyes across the Hall, looking for any sign of Ron, and when he couldn't spot the ginger-haired man anyway, he got up from his seat at the top table and went to join Hermione, eager for a chance to speak to her without any interruptions.

"This seat taken?" he asked, gesturing to the section of bench directly opposite Hermione.

"No," replied Hermione, giving him a small smile. "Please."

Harry sat down, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable. He had not properly spoken to Hermione in a few weeks, not since he and Ron had had their big argument. He knew that the whole situation put Hermione in a tough spot: she naturally wanted to support her husband, but also felt a sense of loyalty to Harry as his best friend. Unfortunately this had made contact between them difficult.

"How are you?" asked Harry, after a moment's silence. "It's...good to see you."

"You too," she said, looking at him. "How are you managing?"

Harry felt a familiar stab of annoyance at her use of the word "managing" – as though he was liable to come apart at the seams at any moment. Although, he reflected, that may not be an entirely inaccurate diagnosis.

"Oh, you know," he replied eventually. "It's not been easy, but I've been coping."

"Good. We've...I've been worried about you." Harry noted that she stopped herself from including Ron in that sentence. "I've not seen you in weeks."

"No," Harry said. "I thought it would be easier for you if I kept my distance for a while."

"I appreciate that. Ron's not been easy to deal with. I think he's just upset."

"There's nothing stopping him talking to me properly," Harry said quickly, although he was unsure that he wanted the conversation to go in this direction. "In two months, all of I've had is a couple of chance encounters where he can't wait to get away from me."

"Well can you really blame him...?" asked Hermione cautiously.

"I'm not proud of what happened!" said Harry, a little more loudly than he would perhaps have liked given they were not talking entirely privately. He leaned forward and spoke more quietly, "At least he could've given me a chance to explain."

He could tell they were heading towards an argument, an outcome which they both clearly wanted to avoid. "Maybe..." said Hermione, and then she looked back down at her cereal. "Just give him some more time."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but then realised it wouldn't help the situation. "OK," he settled on, as neutrally as he could manage given how deflated he was feeling. He had hoped that talking to Hermione would make everything better, that they would be able to work out a way to put things back as they were before. But he shouldn't have been so stupid to think that it would be so easy after what had happened between him and Ginny.

"So what happens..." Harry began but they were interrupted by Ron, who had appeared behind Hermione, and was looking at Harry with an unreadable expression.

"We were just catching up," said Hermione quickly, flashing a guilty look at Harry before standing up. "Harry wanted to..." and then she trailed off as Ron's face remained impassive.

"We should be going," said Ron after a moment. "Mum wants to get back to Burrow as soon as possible."

Hermione looked sadly at Harry one more time before she and Ron turned and started to walk towards the Entrance Hall. A moment later, Ron turned around and walked back to face Harry. For one moment, Harry hoped that Ron might want them to sort out their differences. But then he opened his mouth. "Stay away from me and my family Harry. I've got nothing to say to you." Before Harry could react to this at all, Ron turned on his heel and walked away. Harry watched the two of them leave the Great Hall, feeling like Ron had just punched him in the stomach.

Harry sat there in a stunned silence for a few minutes. Then he looked up and spotted one of his Aurors making her way towards him. "Ah there you are O'Hare," he said, trying hard to reassert his authority after what Ron has said to him. "What news?"

"The man we took from the Great Hall yesterday," said O'Hare, with her usual military professionalism. "We've taken him to the Ministry. He is ready to be questioned at your convenience."

"Very good O'Hare," said Harry. "I shall be returning to the Ministry imminently. Please make sure everything is prepared for my return."

"Yes sir," replied O'Hare, and turned to leave the Great Hall.

Over many years, Harry had learned to suppress his feelings when he needed to be professional. The news about his would-be assassin was a welcome distraction from what had just happened. He looked over to the Slytherin table and called, "Draco!"

Malfoy looked up from the Slytherin table and waved to Harry. Harry gestured towards the Entrance Hall and started walking towards it. Draco caught up with him as he was passing the hourglasses. "We're still ahead by the way," said Harry, by way of introduction, gesturing to the Gryffindor hourglass. "Your lot seem to be in third."

"A temporary setback I'm sure," replied Draco. "So where are we going?"

"The Ministry," replied Harry. "Our guest which you so kindly apprehended for us is waiting there to answer a few of my questions. I thought you might be interested to see how we do things."

"Yes definitely," said Draco enthusiastically.

"And I've had a thought about what job I want you to do in the Auror Office," continued Harry.

"Oh right. What did you have in mind?"

Harry stopped dead and Draco did the same. Harry turned to face the other man. "I want you to be my Deputy," he said and then carried on walking. He grinned to himself as Draco stood stock-still for a moment before hurrying to catch up with him.


End file.
